


Father Of The Bride

by Mathmagician



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 25 years later, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, But very slowly throughout the years, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reunion, Sad Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mathmagician/pseuds/Mathmagician
Summary: " I look around to see the house I’m supposed to stay in for the next few weeks until I find my own place.It is a huge house – way bigger than I imagined given that Natasha grew up with a single father from what I’ve heard – and somewhat old. It is really well taken care of, regardless, and its atmosphere is rather welcoming despite its imposing look. It’s very dark, and I’d bet it is some sort of family heirloom. It matches Natasha’s great-aunt’s whole vibe, so I’d guess she also grew up here.As I’m leaving the car, the front door opens, and Natasha comes out to greet me. Just like Penny, she is also looking rather guilty.“Hi, Mr Snow!” She says as she kisses both my cheeks.“I’ve told you to call me Simon,” I reply, smiling, picking up my luggage and moving towards the front door. “Is your father home?”“Oh, he is home, alright.” Tasha’s great-aunt assures me. “He’s probably just hiding out somewhere thinking how the hell we got him in this situation.” "
Relationships: Natasha Pitch and Noah Bunce, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	1. I Don't Think Much About Him No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies!
> 
> Yes, it is me again, after all this time. As you can guess, the current times have rekindled some old hobbies of mine and I realised how much I actually missed writing a bit of Carry On fanfiction. 
> 
> I must admit I haven't been much involved in the fandom lately (I do read the occasional story, but that's about it), but it will always have my heart so I hope you don't mind me inviting myself back into it.
> 
> As usual, before we start, I do not own any of these amazing characters nor the locations and the general idea. It all belongs to the amazing Rainbow Rowell.
> 
> The name of this story is taken from Vampire Weekend's new album's name, and the titles will all be Vampire weekend songs, or lyrics from them, or slight adaptations of those. 
> 
> Before starting, I just want to say that I hope you are all staying safe and well, hope you are coping the best you can with this weird situation the world is in right now, and I hope you enjoy this stupid random story and that it helps you forget a bit about everything wrong happening. 
> 
> I will try to update very frequently, but I'm still in the process of writing it so I can't promise I won't run into a wall of lack of motivation at some point and need a bit more than a couple of days to update occasionally. I will do my very best to avoid that, though.
> 
> I'll shut up now. Enjoy!

**_BAZ:_ **

I watch her, tears in my eyes, as she spins happily in her wedding dress. Her smile lights up the whole room, and I wish my mother was here to see her. Tasha looks so much like her I sometimes forget she does not carry our genes.

“What do you think, dad?” She asks me hesitantly. I smile, trying to fight back my tears, and the urge to hold her tight and ask her not to get married. It would be a ridiculous request to make. As it is absurd of me to even let that thought cross my mind. My daughter is twenty-five for Crowley’s sake. And her fiancé is an incredibly decent young man – or wouldn’t he have been raised by Penelope Bunce herself.

It doesn’t make it any easier for me to let go of her, regardless. I am still not ready to stop being the most important man in her life, even though I know that hasn’t been the case for some time now.

“You look beautiful, Tasha,” I tell her (she does), and she skips happily toward me to plant a kiss on my cheek before going back inside her room to take off my mother’s wedding dress.

As I watch her disappear behind the door, I can’t help but think back at that day, twenty-three years ago, when I decided to visit the orphanage Simon Snow had spent his childhood in – and the place of the very first blind spot – and met her. She was just a baby, but the moment I walked in I knew I couldn’t leave her there. Her magic was nearly as strong as Simon’s, and I couldn’t bear the thought of another magical child having been left to grow up the way he had. So, I took her home with me that day. It was undoubtfully the best decision I have ever made.

Of course, my father had disagreed with me at first. But, to be fair, the day my father stops disagreeing with my life choices is still yet to come. ‘What are you doing, ruining your life for some random child you found?’ he had said. I had just graduated from Cambridge with a Law degree, and I was adopting a child instead of investing in my career, so I can see where his lack of acceptance came from. But even my father caved, eventually. Natasha was just too sweet, too pure, and too perfect not to.

“Do you think Fiona will like it? And Pop? Oh, and I hope Penelope loves it too.” My daughter asks as she returns from her room and wakes me from my thoughts. I know it is not her real room anymore, as she moved out over three years ago to live with her fiancé, but I left it untouched so that she knows she can always come home whenever she needs.

“Fiona will love it, and so will your grandfather. After all, it is the dress my mother married him in… I’m sure he has fond memories of it.” I tell her “And Penelope will have to love it too. I am not giving her a chance to trash my mother’s wedding dress.”

“I can’t wait to show them.” She tells me, as she sits next to me and lays her head on my shoulder. “Weren’t they supposed to be here by now?”

“They told me they’d be coming after lunch,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. “They’re probably very busy choosing some _lovely_ flowers right now,” I add, sarcastically.

My aunt and Penelope Bunce had been assigned to planning the wedding, which I am not entirely sure was a good idea. My daughter and her future husband, however, decided that they were the best pick: his eccentric mother (who still wears her hair a different colour each month at 45), and my half-punk, half-goth nearly-70-year-old aunt (who still wears Doc Martens against her orthopaedist’s advice, and fishnets against her wife’s wishes to see her embrace her age). I have no idea what was going through their minds when they chose _them_ over _me_ , Natasha’s incredibly stylish and sophisticated gay father who would’ve planned them the most beautiful wedding they could think of. But I guess it is their wedding, so they get to do whatever they please.

At least all I have to do is sit back and wait until Fiona and Penny nearly ruin everything and finally call me in to help. Mostly, I can’t wait until I finally get to say “I told you” so to Natasha and Noah when they do.

“I think they were actually going to the airport to pick up Noah’s godfather.” She tells me. My heart skips a beat at this very new piece of information.

“Noah’s godfather is here already?” I ask her, trying to remain calm. I have already been waiting for this. In fact, the day my daughter came home and told me she was dating Noah Simon Bunce (and that it was serious), I knew this was bound to happen eventually. I am actually rather surprised it took this long for us to meet again, given that Snow is still, to this day, Bunce’s best friend. However, the fact that he lives in America might have helped me avoid seeing him again until now. That, and my ability to always find an excuse to travel abroad whenever I hear he is coming over for a visit.

I couldn’t postpone it any more, unfortunately. I hope, however, that I can manage to avoid him until the big day. And I hope that, even then, we don’t need to speak more than the required “Thank you for coming”. Seeing how he is already here, though, I’m not sure I’ll be able to avoid him altogether.

“Yes, he got here this morning. I think he has a job interview this week, or something like that.” Natasha says, picking up her phone to read a text she just received. Her eyes go wide, and she seems as if she is about to speak, but I cut her off. I need to ask her more about Snow.

“Noah’s godfather is moving here?” I ask, once again trying to conceal my true feelings about it. I was never able to tell my daughter I knew Simon Snow, let alone tell her how in love with him I was when I was younger. I don’t know if Penelope told Noah and he told Tasha, but I’d rather believe she has no clue about it. Because, knowing my daughter as I do, I am sure she would’ve made her main goal to do something about it, had she known. And the last thing I want is for my daughter to try and fix something that I’ve known to be unfixable for a long time. 

“I think he is planning on it.” She tells me. “Noah told me he has been wanting to move back for a long time, but never had the courage to. Apparently, the wedding was a good excuse for him to be back for long enough to find a job and a place to stay. And actually, concerning that…” She tells me, looking at me and biting her lip. And I know that expression. I know my daughter always makes that face whenever she’s done something she shouldn’t have.

“What is it, Natasha?” I ask her, bracing myself for whatever is coming. Whenever that face makes an appearance, I know she fucked up. And given that my daughter hardly ever fucks up, when she does, she does so big time.

“Well, you know how my house is very tiny and how Penny’s house is going through all those renovations…” She begins, and I can already see where this is going. “Well, Mr Snow needed somewhere to stay and I kind of offered your place without asking you first and totally forgot about it until I got Penny’s text a minute ago to let me know they’re on their way.” She says in one breath, almost too fast for me to grasp it. And just like that, my plans to avoid Snow until the wedding went up in flames.

Like I said: whenever my daughter fucks up, she fucks up big time.

**_PENNY:_ **

When Tasha told me Simon could stay with Basilton, I had to be careful about my reaction. I’ve grown to know him well enough to guess he hasn’t told my future daughter-in-law about his history with my best friend. Her suggestion that day ended up being just the confirmation I needed. There is _no way_ she would’ve offered her father’s place, had she known anything about it.

I am obviously aware that I should’ve told her then. I should have let her know how bad of an idea it was to have Simon stay with Basilton after all these years. How terribly wrong it could all go, given that they haven’t seen each other in over twenty-five years. Not since the most important day in history for us Mages - the day all the books tell kids about. The day all kids study in school as the end of this century’s big war. The day Natasha has been reading about since she was a kid, without realising her father, her future mother-in-law, and her fiancé's godfather were the three unnamed kids that fought the Humdrum and the Mage side by side and finally put an end to that ridiculous war.

And, above all of that, they haven’t seen each other since the day Basilton told Simon he loved him and then left the next morning without a word. The day my best friend was left with his world turned upside down and no one else to help him fix it but me.

I knew it was a terrible idea to have them sleep under the same roof, once again, after all the unfinished business they have since their teenage years. Despite the thirty years that have gone by, and despite them being grown-up men who I believe can be in the same room, I am not entirely sure they can survive in the same house for long. So yes, I am aware of how bad everything can go.

However, the day Tasha suggested Simon could stay with Baz, there was a part of me that wondered how this reunion could go. The part of me that believes Basilton is still in love with Simon, after all these years. The same part of me that also believes Simon still cares for Baz, all these years later. The part of me that sort of wants to find out if this could be their chance. The day Tasha told me Simon was welcome to stay with Baz for however long he needed, that part was the part of me that won.

However, as I am driving towards the airport with Fiona Pitch by my side, I am already regretting the stupid decision I know I made when I didn’t tell Natasha the truth. Over that, my biggest regret is that I decided I shouldn’t mention to my best friend that my son is about to marry Natasha Pitch. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch’s daughter.

It is almost ridiculous how Simon still doesn’t know it. (And then again it isn’t given how clueless Simon can sometimes be). Noah and Tasha have been friends since their first year at Watford, and they have been together for over eight years. Simon has even been with her several times, but, for some inexplicable reason, her surname was never mentioned. As time goes by, it gets harder to tell him the truth.

I should’ve told him about Natasha the day she came to Watford. I was just a teacher back then, so the first time I saw her name was when I was calling the girls out to show them to their rooms. I remember double-checking it, but there was really no way that I was mistaken. Her name was, after all, Natasha Fiona Grimm-Pitch.

As she walked towards me that day, I remember thinking it couldn’t be true. Had Basilton finally gave in to his father’s request and married some girl from the Old Families? How was it possible that he had a child?

It didn’t take me long to find out, however, what had happened. I knew for sure who would have my answers, so I went straight to her.

Ebb told me, as if it was absolutely no big deal, that Basilton had adopted Natasha when he was 22 because he found her at an orphanage – the same orphanage Simon had lived in during his childhood, as I later discovered – and couldn’t bear to see another magical child grow up amongst Normals. Ebb didn’t think much of it, but that was just typical Ebb – nothing was ever too weird for her. She wouldn’t have married Fiona Pitch otherwise, would she?

“Who are we picking up, again?” Fiona asks, waking me up from my thoughts. I sigh. She asked me this a minute ago but, as usual, she didn’t care to hear the answer.

“Noah’s godfather,” I tell her, and she hums uninterested.

“Why is he coming so soon?” She asks after a while.

“Well, he is thinking about moving back to London. He is coming earlier for some interviews and to look for an apartment.”

“Back?” She asks, frowning. Something is shifting in her expression, and she is starting to connect the dots. “What did you say his name was, again?”

“I didn’t,” I tell her. “But if I told you my child’s middle name was chosen after him, I’m sure you’d guess.”

She starts laughing before I even finish the sentence. Fiona Pitch hasn’t changed a bit since I met her, back at Watford, over 25 years ago. At 60, she is still as crazy (and as cool) as she was back then. Truth be told, I just wish I can be so lucky to be like her when I grow older.

“Oh, little Bunce…” She says, wiping the tears off her eyes. “How did I miss this one? I’m losing my touch! The Chosen One, of course! Does Basilton know?”

“That Simon is my son’s godfather? He does.” I tell her, and she seems disappointed. “That he is coming to the wedding? He does too.” Fiona smile starts to fade, but I’m sure it will come back after I finish. “That he is coming today and staying with him because my house is inhabitable right now and Tasha offered his place? I seriously doubt it. Truth be told, I think Tasha forgot to tell him. I think she even forgot she offered. If she had mentioned it to him, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be happening.”

“Shit Bunce.” I hear her shriek next to me, laughing uncontrollably. She has to gasp for hair before asking me “Does the Chosen One know?”

“That Noah is marrying into your family? He does not. That he is staying with Baz for Merlin knows how long? Doubt it. To be fair, though, he never really asked.” I reply, and it’s not a lie. He just accepted that he was staying with Natasha’s father without even asking me for his name. Or any information on him, for that matter.

“He never really asked. And, yet, you never really told him either.” She states, her eyes gliding with mischievousness. “You are even worse than I thought. Good job, little Bunce. This is going to be a royal fuck up. And I am here for _every_ _second_ of it.”

**_SIMON:_ **

I’ve flown to and from London more times than I can count. I’ve been on this fucking 8 hour-long flight so many times I should be used to it by now, but I am not. I am always extraordinarily exhausted and extremely cranky when I land, and Penny is familiar with it by now. However, today she is not alone, and the car is not so silent as it usually is. I would enjoy it if I were my usual self, which I never am after my flights.

Penny is driving, and for some reason, looking incredibly guilty. We have barely exchanged two sentences since I landed. (Only her usual “I missed you” and my usual “I missed you too.”) But I can spot Penny’s guilty face from miles away. I genuinely don’t know what she did wrong – or if it has something to do with me at all – but I’m starting to suspect it has something to do with Natasha’s great-aunt who won’t tell me her name.

I know I’ve met her before – her face is so familiar, and so is her whole ensemble. I know I’ve met someone like her before, and the way she carries herself reminds me of someone from my past. I just can’t seem to figure out who. And she is having way too much fun torturing me for it. (Which is also something extremely familiar).

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a wild guess?” She asks me, looking back to face me. She has a trace of mischievousness in her eyes that reminds me of someone other than her, but I can’t seem to remember who either. Sleep deprivation really fucks up with your brain.

“No, I’m good.” I tell her, “I’m sure I’ll be figuring it out soon, once I get to sleep off all this jet lag.”

“You used to be fun, Chosen one.” She mumbles, and the way she says it almost makes me remember who she is. I haven’t heard anyone call me that in a long (long) time. No one knows I was the Chosen One anymore, so I’d bet I’ve met her way back. Back when I was at Watford, and the Mage was still alive. And I swear I would care why the hell she just called me something only Baz used to call me if only I wasn’t so fucking exhausted. Right now, I really can’t force myself to be bothered.

“I swear I’ll be way more fun tomorrow, after getting all the sleep I need,” I reply as Penny pulls up on someone’s driveway. I look around to see the house I’m supposed to stay in for the next few weeks until I find my own place.

It is a huge house – way bigger than I imagined given that Natasha grew up with a single father from what I’ve heard – and somewhat old. It is really well taken care of, regardless, and its atmosphere is rather welcoming despite its imposing look. It’s very dark, and I’d bet it is some sort of family heirloom. It matches Natasha’s great-aunt’s whole vibe, so I’d guess she also grew up here.

As I’m leaving the car, the front door opens, and Natasha comes out to greet me. Just like Penny, she is also looking rather guilty.

“Hi, Mr Snow!” She says as she kisses both my cheeks.

“I’ve told you to call me Simon,” I reply, smiling, picking up my luggage and moving towards the front door. “Is your father home?”

“Oh, he is home, alright.” Tasha’s great-aunt assures me. “He’s probably just hiding out somewhere thinking how the hell we got him in this situation.”

“What situation?” I’m slightly confused. Did the man not know I was coming? That is unfortunate. I thought that, when Natasha offered his place, she already had his agreement.

“My guess would be he found out very recently that you were staying over.” She declares, her voice sounding too amused for this situation. “But hey kiddo, have fun at the Pitch Manor.” She finishes, gesturing her head towards the house.

For a second there, I am confident I heard it wrong. This couldn’t really be _the_ Pitch Manor, could it? Why would this be the Pitch Manor? Natasha wasn’t a Pitch, was she? I look at Penny concerned, and the apologetic look on her face tells me I might have not misheard what Tasha’s great-aunt just told me. I look at her once again, and it suddenly kicks - Fiona Pitch.

Someone clears their throat from behind me. In the middle of my meltdown, I didn’t hear anyone approach, but before I even turn around, I know who it is.

“Hello, Snow.” He says, and the sound of his voice was one I swore I would never hear again in my life.

“What the fuck…” I whisper as I turn around to face my old roommate, my sworn enemy, and the very first boy I ever had a crush on, twenty-five years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, and feel free to leave suggestions, comments, corrections or just your lovely opinion.  
> I'll try to post the next chapter as soon as possible! 
> 
> Until then, stay safe and hope you have very lovely days!


	2. My Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovelies,
> 
> I wanna thank everyone who commented and left kudos and read the last chapter! Thank you so much for your support, it made me really happy and glad to be back.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the new chapter :)

**_NATASHA_ **

I feel absolutely awful. My dad and Mr Snow have been staring at each other for Merlin knows how long and this incredible awkwardness is all my fault. I don’t really know why the air became suddenly so tense. Judging from my dad’s reaction when I told him I had invited Mr Snow to stay with him, though, I’d bet there’s some kind of history there. A history everyone seems to be completely familiar with – I can see it in Penny’s and Fiona’s faces that they are fully aware of what is going on. Some history, however, that no one has made me aware of, and thus the current situation.

“Shall we go in? Mr Snow, I can help you with your bags.” I say, finally breaking the silence. I can’t stand the silence, the staring, and the awkwardness for a second longer. This is just too much, and I wish Noah was here to joke around and lighten the mood.

“Leave it,” Dad says, his jaw tenser than I’ve seen it in years. “I can take Snow’s luggage into the guest’s room. Please show him around the house, would you Natasha?” He asks. He uses my full name, and his face doesn’t soften like it usually does when he looks at me. Dad is mad, alright. I wish he’d told me why, though.

“Ok, come with me Mr…”

“Simon.” He interrupts, yawning. “Thanks, Natasha.” He replies, following me into the house. Penny shoots me an apologetic look as she passes us and heads towards the guest room, probably to speak to my dad. Aunt Fiona just follows Mr Snow and me around, grinning mischievously the whole time. Something tells me she is enjoying this immensely, which is not at all surprising given that aunt Fiona finds amusement in other people’s misery.

“You have a lovely home.” Mr Snow says as we return to the living room.

“Oh, this is all dad,” I reply. “He remodelled the house when Pop gave it to us, and he is the one keeping it all nice and fancy.”

“Yeah, your dad was always the one to keep things nice and fancy.” He replies, and I’m not sure I understand what he means by that.

“Oh, you should know, Chosen One.” Aunt Fiona mocks, and I look at her puzzled. What does she mean, Chosen One? Why does everyone in this house knows what is happening besides me? I understand I royally fucked up, but I honestly don’t know why, and I feel like no one plans on telling me either. And if there’s one thing in which I take after my father, is the fact that I hate being the clueless one in any situation. So I guess I have to ask. 

**_SIMON_ **

“Mr Sn… Simon” Natasha asks cautiously, and I don’t particularly enjoy her tone. I feel like she might ask about Baz and I and, unfortunately, I am too sleep-deprived to have a filter. “I feel like I’m the only one here who doesn’t fully understand what is going on. Where exactly do you and my dad know each other from?”

“Natasha,” Baz’s voice startles me, as it does his daughter. “How about you let Snow rest and stop pestering him with questions?”

She looks at him as if she’s not used to hearing this tone on him anymore. In all honestly, he is speaking to her as if she was a child who was just caught doing an awful thing, which she wasn’t. Her question was more than fair. But I am incredibly thankful for his intervention. I really don’t want to be the one explaining it, especially with my tendency to say way more than I should.

It is interesting, however, that Baz has never told his daughter about me. To be fair, if I had kids, I don’t think I would tell them about my past crushes either. But I assumed he would have at least mentioned his old roommate from Watford. Hell, I even assumed he would have told her all about the whole saving the world of Mages thing. Baz was always the one to brag. At least when we were younger, he was. To be honest, I have no idea what he is like right now. As much as that might pain me to admit, I don’t know Baz anymore. 

“Yeah, sleep would be lovely,” I say, standing from Baz’s incredibly comfortable couch and looking at him. “Anyone can show me where I’m staying?”

“Follow me,” Baz says, immediately turning around and disappearing into the only part of the house Natasha didn’t show me. I walk behind him and look around me to avoid staring at him and letting my mind go to places I really don’t want my mind to go. There are some nice pictures on the wall. Most from Baz and Tasha, throughout all the stages of life. He is smiling in almost all of those, and it is almost scary how happy he looks. I don’t think I ever remember seeing him like that. He also has some photos from his young years, with his mom, and later with his dad and Daphne. I recognise a picture from the Watford’s football team – Baz with his captain armband, holding the football under his arm, staring seriously at the camera with a cocked eyebrow. That is the Baz I remember.

I look at the man walking in front of me and wonder what version of Baz I am going to get. I wonder how much he could possibly have changed. I once thought he was incapable of doing so, but I am not 15 anymore.

Baz opens a door for me, and we both walk into what I suppose is going to be my room. It is huge, with high ceilings, a lovely balcony looking over a huge green field, and, most importantly, the biggest and most comfortable looking bed I have seen in a long time.

“I put your bags by the wardrobe,” Baz says, pointing towards the corner of the room. “That’s the bathroom” he continues, pointing towards a door I didn’t even realise was there “And if you get hungry at some point, I trust you can find your way to the kitchen. There’s stuff in the fridge if I’m not around. If you get too confused, just shout for me.” He finishes. “Anything else you need?”

I am a bit thrown by how nice he is being. I mean, it’s not like he’s the warmest host in the world, but he is also not trying to kill me or looking like he wants to. I don’t know what I expected, to be honest. It’s been over 25 years, and we’re both grown men. Of course, he’s not plotting my downfall. (Not that he ever was).

“I think I’m good. I honestly just want to sleep.” I reply, and Baz smiles politely. It is fake as fuck, but I can’t blame him. This is all too much for the both of us and, right now, I’m virtually a stranger who used to be his worst enemy (and the boy he confessed his love to) and who just walked into his house with little to no notice.

“Brilliant. I am going then. Natasha is showing Penelope and Fiona her wedding dress, and I need to be there for it.” He says and adds. “I don’t know why I thought you needed to know that. Anyway, goodbye Snow.”

And he leaves, closing the door behind him. As he turns around, I think I briefly spot a ghost of a smile on his face. The kind of smile I used to spot on him back when we were young, and I’d caught him randomly looking at me. The kind I always assumed meant he was imagining all the ways he was going to hurt me until he told me he was actually picturing a life in which we could actually end up together.

I shake my head. I’m in desperate need for some sleep – I am already imagining things.

**_BAZ_ **

Six pairs of eyes stare at me intensely as I walk into my living room. Fiona, as I expected, is incredibly amused. There is nothing my aunt enjoys more than other people’s pain (and mine above anyone else’s). My daughter looks utterly clueless. Penelope is looking amazingly guilty.

I choose to ignore any of those faces and pretend absolutely nothing is happening. The last thing I need is for them to make a big deal out of this. And maybe if I can convince everyone else this isn’t a big deal, I’ll begin to believe it myself.

“So, are we seeing the wedding dress or not?” I say, trying to sound as normal as I possibly can. Maybe I should have gone for excited, I guess it came out a bit too unphased because the three of them frown at the same time.

“So you’re just going to act all tough?” Fiona asks at the same time as Penelope says “Basilton, I am really sorry, I should have told you.”, and my daughter asks “Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

“I am not acting tough. I don’t understand what you mean by that.” I say to Fiona, who just lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “There is literally nothing to apologise for except for maybe the fact that you could have warned me so I could have the guest room set up for him well in advance,” I tell Penny, who nods but clearly doesn’t believe me. “And what is going on is a long story but honestly not the big deal everyone seems to be making.” I lie to my daughter, hoping she’ll buy it.

“But can you just tell me what it is?” She asks, clearly frustrated. Knowing her as I do, she’s not enjoying being the only one around here who not aware of the situation. There’s a part of me who just wants to let her suffer for a little bit longer, but there is no point. It’s not like I’m actually gonna tell her the whole story anyway.

“Simon was my roommate at Watford.” I simply say, fully aware it will not be enough for Natasha.

“The one you refuse to talk about.” She states.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say we didn’t get along back then.” Fiona laughs again. I throw are a death stare.

“Why?” She sounds like she did when she was seven.

“We just didn’t. There’s not much explanation for it. But we’re not kids anymore, and I’m sure we can survive under the same roof again. We don’t even have to share a room this time.”

“You wish you had,” Fiona mutters. Penny hits her. Natasha frowns.

“That’s the story,” I say, trying to make what my aunt just said seem unimportant. “That’s all you need to know. Can we do some wedding dress modelling now?” I ask.

Natasha looks at me unconvinced but eventually gives in. If I know my daughter, she’s gonna interrogate Fiona and Penelope as soon as she has the chance, but right now she’s gonna let it go.

“Fine.” She says, getting up and heading towards her room.

“I’ll come help!” Penny says, following Natasha.

“I’ll go too. I think Basilton is gonna murder me if he catches me alone right now.” Fiona says, and the three of them disappear into the hallway.

And finally, they’re gone. Finally, I am alone.

I take in a deep breath, sinking down on my favourite armchair. I take the little time I have alone to let myself freak out a little bit. Merlin knows I need it.

I need to look calm and collected, but the last thing I feel is calm and collected. I need to make it seem like Snow being here is normal, a bit unexpected, but completely fine when inside I am absolutely shaken.

It has been over 25 years since the last time I saw Simon Snow. And, in all honesty, I thought it could be alright to see him again. I thought I could do it, for a while, at the wedding. I knew it would be awkward, given the very last of our encounters, and I wanted to avoid that at all costs. Once I knew I couldn’t, I told myself we could surpass the awkward just as long as both of us pretended that night never actually happened. And, knowing Snow, he probably wanted to do that as much as I did.

What I didn’t anticipate, however, was that seeing him would suddenly make 25 years go up in smoke. What I couldn’t have known was that, as soon as I laid my eyes on him, all the feelings I thought I didn’t – I couldn’t, after so long – still have, would just come crashing down. What I couldn’t have guessed was that, after all this time, the fact that I loved Simon Snow – the fact that I always had, and the fact that I always will love him – would be the real problem I would have to face. Except that I could have guessed all of this. Except that I did. Because I knew. It was him.

It had always been _him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Stay safe and have a lovely lovely day! <3


	3. Harmony hall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies!
> 
> Hope everyone is staying safe, healthy, and coping alright with this situation!  
> Here's a new chapter for you! Enjoy :)

**_SIMON:_ **

The moonlight shining on my face is what wakes me up. It takes me a second to understand where I am before the events from earlier come back to me. I am currently lying in bed, in Baz’s guestroom. Baz, my roommate-slash-nemesis who I, unknowingly – but maybe not so unknowingly – had a massive crush on throughout the entirety of my teenage years. Baz, who fought the Humdrum and the Mage by my side and helped me and Penny put an end to that terrible pointless war. Baz, who confessed his undying love for me the night after everything ended, who comforted me until I finally fell asleep that night, and who disappeared without a trace the next morning. Baz, who I haven’t laid my eyes on in over 25 years – and who I thought I would never in my life see again. Baz, who still looks just as good as he did when we were young, as much as it pains me to admit. And Baz, who, apparently, is the father of the women who is about to marry my godson.

I toss and turn around in bed, trying to make myself fall asleep again. It is still too dark out, and even though I’m not sleepy anymore, there’s no good in staying awake. I’ll end up overthinking everything that is happening to death. Like the fact that Penny has been a part of Baz’s life for quite a while now – you can tell by the way they act around each other. And the fact that she never thought to mention that she knew where he was, what he was doing, that he had a daughter (!!!), and that said daughter was Natasha, who I’ve met countless times before. If I don’t fall asleep, I’ll just end up thinking about the fact that Baz has a daughter – how the hell does he have a daughter? – and has been raising her on his own since he was young (Natasha told me so, once). I’ll just end up obsessing over the fact that my best friend has this whole life that includes my old archnemesis-slash-roommate-slash-unacknowledged-crush, and decided to keep it hidden from me. And, worst of all, I’ll just have to acknowledge the fact that, after so many years of not thinking about him that often (or so I like to believe), seeing Baz today took me back to when I was 17 and realised for the first time how big my crush on him was. It will make me have to admit to myself that maybe – just maybe – he may still hold a special place in my heart. And I am definitely not ready to think about any of that.

My stomach rumbles, and I am suddenly aware of how hungry I am. I won’t be able to fall asleep, so I decide I need to look for some food. Baz told me to just help myself if I needed anything, so he must have meant it, right?

I open my door slowly, and it creaks slightly. Guessing by the size of this house, though, I doubt it would be enough to wake anyone. Baz’s room is probably on the other end of this huge-ass mansion anyway.

I make the way throughout the house, getting lost twice before I finally find the kitchen. I turn on the lights, and my heart almost stops. Sitting right at the kitchen table, staring directly at me with a cocked eyebrow and a sarcastic smile is, of course, Baz.

“Let me guess…” He says, looking at me. “You’re hungry.”

**_BAZ:_ **

****

It’s been years since Simon Snow kept me awake at night. It’s not that I don’t think of him, once in a while. I do, of course, I do. Maybe more than I do like to admit. But I am not a pining teenager anymore, so I manage to function just fine with is everlasting presence in my brain.

And so it’s been years since the last night I found myself unable to sleep because I just couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his bronze curls and his ordinary blue eyes. About his freckles and his moles that map out constellations on his body. About that last night, after the end of the war, when he fell asleep in my arms and wouldn’t let go. It’s been years since these thoughts have tormented me and made me unable to shut off. Or rather, it had been years. Because tonight… tonight Simon is sleeping in the room next to mine, and I can’t make the thoughts go away like usually do.

That is why, as soon as I hear his door creaking, I am sure he left the room. There is a part of me that knows I should just let him be. For his, and for my sake. The less time we spend together, the better for both of us. But I am slightly sleep-deprived, and I am endlessly curious to know more – to know everything – and so I get up and follow him.

At first, I was honestly just gonna follow him to the kitchen (I’d bet it on my life that he is going to the kitchen). But when I see him taking the wrong turn and heading towards the library, I see it as my chance to maybe have a little fun. I may be utterly in love with him, but I also miss taunting him. I miss the way he looks at me whenever I catch him off guard. And so I head to the kitchen and sit in the dark, waiting for him to come in and jump at the sound of my voice.

He actually jumps as he turns on the lights and finds me staring directly at him, but it is equally as entertaining. I can feel the distrust in his gaze, and I love it. It makes me feel young again.

“Let me guess…” I, looking at Simon Snow. “You’re hungry.”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking embarrassed.

“I may be a little.” He states, shrugging. He hasn’t changed a single bit, and that makes all of this a thousand times worst. “What the hell were you doing here sitting in the dark?”

“It’s my goddamn house, Snow. I can sit in the dark wherever I fancy.” He frowns but decides not to fight me on this. I admit I am a bit disappointed. I wanted him to.

“You mind if I raid your fridge? I don’t remember the last time I skipped dinner.”

I signal for him to go ahead, and take the opportunity to finally take a good look at him while he’s making a sandwich out of everything I have in the fridge. Even though it has been 25 years, Simon Snow is still Simon Snow. Don’t get me wrong, he has aged, obviously. I can see it mostly in his eyes – they look more tired than they did when we were kids. Like they’ve seen a lot (which I know they have). He is not as in shape as he was when we were younger (no wonder if he keeps eating like he used to), but he is still just as fucking fit. His bronze curls are still as bronze and as wild as they were back in the day. And his face (and body, I imagine) are still painted with a thousand freckles and moles – the same I used to dream of kissing every night (and still do, sometimes). And his magic… his magic is just as intoxicating as it has always been. Even though it is not as strong (he gave some of it up to save the fucking world, like the selfless bastard he is), it still makes me dizzy, light-headed, almost drunk.

He sets his plate down in front of me and sits down.

“So, tell me, Baz, how the hell did I not know you were the father of my future goddaughter-in-law,” He asks, straight to the point. I don’t know if it has something do to with the fact that we’re both exhausted and still trying to process everything that is happening. Or if it is just that he is still as blunt as he always was. But, I must admit, this time, it was him who caught me off guard.

“There is no such thing as a goddaughter-in-law, Snow,” I reply, trying to sound as cold as possible. “And I don’t see how I could have anything to do with that.”

“You knew about me.” He states, and I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. Like it wasn’t bloody obvious, with Noah’s middle name being Simon and everything.

“I knew about you way before my child was even born, Snow. We used to live together, in case you’ve forgotten.” I say, sarcastically. I know I shouldn’t be like this. I don’t know what it is that I expect to get out of this conversation, especially if I am going to behave like a fucking dick. But, unfortunately, it was always the only way I knew how to communicate with Snow while trying to hide the fact that I was utterly in love with him.

“You’re not fifteen anymore, Baz.” He replies, dryly. “You know perfectly well what I meant.” Again, he catches me by surprise. I was not expecting him to act so grown up and, honestly, it makes me a little bit embarrassed knowing that I am the one who is acting like a bloody teenager.

“I don’t know how you didn’t know, Snow.” I eventually say, trying to act my age this time. “I couldn’t be the one telling you.”

“I know, I know.” He says, absentmindedly. “I can’t believe Penny didn’t mention it.” He says, looking at me. And I can see he is hurt.

“I think she was just trying to protect you, Snow. And me.” I say, and I surprise myself. I didn’t mean to be this honest.

“What do you mean?” He asks, and I sigh. He can’t play the thick card on me, not when it comes to this subject.

“You know perfectly well what I mean, Snow,” I say, mimicking his words from earlier.

“Did you know I was coming to stay with you?” He asks, changing the subject. Thank Crowley.

“I didn’t, until this morning. I’m not sure we’d be in this situation if I had.” I reply, once again, more honestly than I intended.

“If you want me to go, I can.” He says, shrugging. I can almost swear I could spot some pain wash over his gaze, but it is gone as soon as it appeared. “I can try to find a hotel or something.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Snow,” I say, trying not to let on how much I want him to stay. “There’s no need for you to be spending money on a hotel.”

He looks at me, smiling. And I think he gets it. I think he understands this is my way of saying I’d like him to stay.

**_SIMON:_ **

****

The mind does tend to romanticise the things from your past. So much so, that mine had already made me forget how much of a dick Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch was. But at the same time, the mind also tends to forget. So much so, that I had completely forgotten how soft Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch could be when he let his guard down.

As we walk back to our rooms, hands nearly brushing, I can’t stop but thinking about the absurdity of this all. This is the strangest situation I have ever been on, I think. And, at the same time, it is not. At the same time, it all feels just so familiar. Baz halts by the door next to mine and opens it.

“See you tomorrow Snow.” He says as he walks in. And, just as before, I am almost sure I can see a smile appearing on his face.

“Night, Baz,” I reply before walking into my own room.

As I lay back on the bed, fully aware that I am not falling back asleep any time soon, I can’t help but wonder if Baz ever thought of me throughout the years the same way I always think of him. With regret for the way everything ended; With curiosity, wondering what could have been if he had stayed. And with longing. A longing I never seemed to quite place. A longing that meant he has always meant more than I care to admit.

And there’s this tiny part of me that wonders if maybe – just maybe – this could be my chance to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to leave any suggestions, comments, thoughts you have!   
> Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and taking the time to follow this story!
> 
> Hope you all have a lovely day!


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